


Hermione Granger Drabble Collection

by Keira_63



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Love, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/pseuds/Keira_63
Summary: A collection of Hermione-centric drabbles featuring various pairings and friendships.  All under 1,000 words.Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc.  I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.





	1. Library - Hermione Granger & Theodore Nott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - library  
> Characters - Hermione Granger & Theodore Nott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

They meet in the Hogwarts library in third year.

Of course they’ve been in the same classes before. They know each other’s names, and Hermione is aware he’s the best at DADA in their year (just edging out Harry), likes the library more than most Ravenclaws and has a completely black thumb when it comes to Herbology (Pofessor Sprout despairs of him). But they’ve never interacted before this.

 

Nott, Hermione notices, rarely speaks at all. He spends most of his time with his nose in a book (she can certainly relate), and rolling his eyes at Malfoy’s dramatics and Parkinson’s hysterics. His usual library seat is two tables across from hers and she often hears whispering from other students that his father was a Death Eater who escaped prison by claiming he was under the Imperius Curse.

“I heard Thoros Nott murdered his wife,” one girl tells another, “right in front of his son.”

“My cousin told me,” Hermione overhears weeks later, “that Nott’s dad was one of the worst of You-Know-Who’s followers, that he was nearly as cruel as Bellatrix Lestrange. I don’t know how anyone could stand to be friends with him – I know it was his dad who did all that stuff but Nott grew up with him and for all we know he could be just as bad.”

Hermione scoffs at the rumours. Nurture plays a part in someone’s personality, but to suggest that Nott is a psychopath when he’s never shown any tendency towards it that she can see (he’s got a brilliant knowledge of spells, both dark and light, but so do countless others) is just cruel gossip.

 

Hermione doesn’t know Nott. Maybe he does plot in the Slytherin dungeons and use dark magic and dream of resurrecting You-Know-Who … but she doesn’t think so. Nott is quiet but she gets the feeling he just prefers the shadows, and that he feels more comfortable blending into the crowd than seeking the spotlight.

 

* * *

 

When they meet properly for the first time Hermione is hurrying after Nott with a few sheets of parchment he’s accidentally left at his table.

“Nott,” she whispers as loudly as she dares with sharp-eared Madam Pince in the vicinity, “Nott, wait – you forgot these.”

He turns around, no expression on his face but a hint of surprise in his eyes. She senses he’s not used to be spoken too, and especially by a Gryffindor who isn’t suspicious of him because of his family.

She hands the parchment over with a shy smile and they stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.

Just as she turns to go, though, Nott gives her a small but genuine smile, “thanks, Granger.”

Just two words, but Hermione senses that Nott doesn’t say them often and she feels oddly privileged.

She has a funny little grin on her face for the rest of the day and not even Harry and Ron’s theories on the reason behind her good mood (which get more outlandish every minute) can spoil her happiness.

 

* * *

 

The next day Hermione unpacks her homework at her table in the library. But when Nott enters about ten minutes later he takes a seat beside her rather than at his usual table.

She doesn’t say a word in protest.

“Is this ok?” he asks, sounding rather unsure.

It’s strange. Quiet though Nott is, he has always carried himself with confidence, and though she can’t claim to have great knowledge of his character she has never seen him so nervous.

“Of course it is,” she tells him, “it will be nice to study with someone who takes their work seriously. Harry and Ron are great but they aren’t too fond of the library.”

 

Nott pulls out the DADA homework from Professor Lupin, Hermione pushes over the book she’s found to help with the essay so Nott can see it too, and they begin a quiet conversation about whether they would rather face a vampire or a werewolf.

 

Hermione can’t see the future and personally believes that Divination is a load of rubbish. However, she doesn’t think Nott is anything like his father. She thinks that he is a bit lonely and very much against what Thoros Nott believes and how he acts.

Hermione doesn’t know what will happen in the next few years, but she thinks that the boy sitting next to her will be a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	2. Vanity - Hermione Granger / Lucius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - vanity  
> Characters - Hermione Granger / Lucius Malfoy  
> For SereniteRose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

“You are so vain,” Hermione rolls her eyes as she watches Lucius admire his appearance in the mirror, “sometimes I’m surprised that you haven’t fallen in love with your own reflection.”

His eyes narrow, “I am not Narcissus, Hermione, and this is no Greek myth.”

“Could have fooled me,” she murmurs, darting backwards with a grin when he reaches out to grab her waist, “it’s alright, Lucius, I know I’ll always be second in your heart.”

 

This time he manages to catch her before she can move out of the way, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her close so he can press his lips against hers, “you are a maddening little witch.”

“So I’ve been told,” she says, “mostly by you … but really, would you like me if I just agreed with everything you said like a good little housewife?”

“Life would certainly be more peaceful.”

“More boring, you mean,” she retorts, “shall I try it?”

 

She steps out of his embrace and sits down on one of the chairs, adopting a very proper pose with hands folded and a look of polite interest. The sort of look often adopted by society girls at the many dull balls Lucius insists on dragging her to.

“How are you today, darling?” she asks in a saccharine tone of voice that she would usually never be caught dead using, “if there is anything I can do to make you happier, do let me know - nothing is more important to me than assisting you with any little thing you wish me to.”

Lucius steps closer, a lascivious look in his eyes, “ _anything_ , Hermione?”

She breaks character immediately, sending an angry red spark of magic at him as he laughs.

“Peace, my lioness,” he soothes, “it was merely a joke.”

“You are so full of yourself, Lucius,” Hermione scowls, though there is amusement in her expression, “like I said – vain.”

 

“I am not vain,” he insists, “we have been over this.”

“I once again bring attention to your inability to pass by a mirror without primping.”

“I do not primp, Hermione.”

“You definitely do. And you’re obsessed with your hair.”

“My hair is magnificent, darling, it deserves the best care.”

Hermione winds a few strands of Lucius’ long, white blond hair around her fingers. She won’t admit it to him but she’s a little jealous of his silky, beautiful hair when her own resembles a bird’s nest unless she spends two hours and ten different products and potions wrestling it into submission.

She removes her hand from Lucius’ hair and tries to get back on topic. Her husband’s vanity has gotten to a ridiculous point and they have to deal with it.

 

“Mirrors, hair,” she repeats, “then there’s the bills you run up on your robes.”

“We have the money,” he reminds her, “my robes don’t even make a dent in the Malfoy vaults.”

She rolls her eyes, “no man needs twenty sets of summer robes specifically for Wizengamot meetings … per year.”

“I have to look my best, Hermione – I respect your decision to sometimes wear the same pair of robes twice in one week to work, but I have a reputation in the fashionable world to uphold.”

“The Wizengamot,” she reminds him with clenched teeth, “only meets five times in the summer period, so why do you need four different sets for each meeting?”

“Well I require spares,” he says with a confused look, seemingly baffled at her words, “what if one set gets dirty on my way to the Ministry, or if, Merlin forbid, someone else is wearing the same robes?”

Hermione can feel a headache coming on.

 

“Let’s just move on to the next thing,” she tells him, “which is whether we really need at least one portrait of you in every room of the manor.”

“Of course we do.”

“Even the bathrooms?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately.

“This manor has a hundred rooms, Lucius.”

“I am failing to follow your point … Hermione, why on earth are you slamming your head against the wall?”

 

“I give up, Lucius. I’m not even going to try and talk to you about the symbolism of all the bloody peacocks you insist on keeping in the gardens.”

“Darling, I know you love them all as much as I do.”

She scowls. Damn him for being right – for some reason she really does love the peacocks.

 

“Come now, Hermione, don’t pout.”

He wraps his arms around her and she leans back into his embrace.

“You aren’t really unhappy with my little vanities, are you darling?”

“They are beyond irritating,” she tells him, “but Merlin knows I’m aware of the fact that you’re never going to change.”

“And you love me anyway?” he prompts.

“Yes, Lucius, frustrating wizard that you are, I do love you.”

 

Lucius spins her around to kiss her and when they break apart he gives her a conspiratorial smile, “shall we go down to breakfast – there’s still time to scandalise Draco before I have to leave for my meeting.”

She smiles back, content and happy, “that sounds wonderful Lucius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	3. Blood - Hermione Granger / Tom Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - blood  
> Characters - Hermione Granger / Tom Riddle  
> Set in the late 1940s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

The first thing Hermione notices when she enters the apartment is blood.

It is all over the floor of the normally relatively tidy (books all over the place aside) sitting room, as well as splattered on various objects and the walls.

It seems to have missed her rare texts, thank Merlin. Not that such a thing is much comfort.

 

Hermione can’t help but gasp, though, when she spots the pale body on the floor.

She steps forward almost without meaning to, her curiosity outweighing her horror.

She recognises the corpse. Epiphron Fawley, a wizard about twenty years older than she is. Fawley is well-known for his desire to entirely outlaw not only all dark magic but even the grey kind that encompasses a considerable amount of the higher magic and family magic. He’s a bit of a fanatic about it and Hermione has never been fond of him – his views go way too far for her taste and she respects the preservation of magical knowledge too much to see such a large part of it removed from their society.

But she’s never wished him dead, especially not in this clearly violent way (she can see the marks of  _Sectumsempra_  and knows his end must have been painful and likely lingering).

 

Of course she knows who is responsible.

She knows even before Tom steps back into the room, blood on his shirt and his hands.

A vicious, triumphant smirk on his face.

He is terribly beautiful at this moment, just as she imagines the old gods would have looked moments after bringing destruction to their enemies.

“Tom,” she whispers, “what have you done?”

 

He laughs, high and cold, “you are no fool, Hermione, you know exactly what I have done – the evidence is right in front of you.”

“I thought … I thought you were past this,” she says softly.

He scoffs at her, “darling, you know full well what I am, you just like your little delusions.”

“No,” she denies, “I cannot abide by this – Fawley was a problem but he didn’t deserve to die.”

 

Tom moves forward until he stands right in front of her, and then he lifts his hand to run a finger down her cheek.

She can feel dampness and knows that he is leaving a trail of blood across her face.

The thought does not disturb her quite as much as it should … and that worries her.

“You know that change on the scale that this country needs will require sacrifices, don’t you Hermione?”

She shakes her head, but he shushes her and now both hands grip her arms.

She doesn’t look down. She doesn’t want to see the bloody handprints on her skin, the reminder of who Tom really is.

 

Hermione had thought she could change him, that she could channel his desire for power into less murderous routes.

She has been an idiot, obviously, and a blind one at that.

 

“We are  _better_  than all of them,” he tells her in that smooth, coaxing tone that has always made it so easy for him to charm, “and you know it.”

“That doesn’t mean they deserve to be tortured or murdered or locked away,” she insists fiercely.

“You can’t have a revolution without such things,” he tells her, fingers dancing up and down her bare arms and smudging her skin with more blood, “and I know you understand the need for reformation – you complain enough about the Ministry.”

He’s twisting her words to suit his point, which is typical of him. He knows that she has always meant that they should reform the Ministry from within, using legal methods rather than terror.

"Most of them are sheep," he continues, "content in their mediocrity. They will not be stirred to think for themselves when they can be spoon-fed by their politicians."

She doesn’t want to think badly of people, but she knows he is right and remembers how so many of their classmates had been content with exam results that were a mix of As and Es, while she and Tom had received Os in every subject.

 

“This isn’t right,” she tells him, hating herself for the weak resolve in her voice.

“Will you leave then?” he asks coldly.

He sounds uncaring, however she knows him well enough to hear the small hint of panic in his voice. He is arrogant enough to be almost positive that she will not go, but if she does she knows that whatever he might say it will hurt (and anger) him.

This is her chance to get out. She has been warned time and time again by Dumbledore, but she’s got her own streak of arrogance and she has always been so sure that she can handle Tom, and that she can help him control the darkest impulses he has.

She is starting to wonder if it is a hopeless cause. Tom doesn’t want to change and Hermione might be his match but she is not strong enough to force him into anything.

Tom is not one to be contained, not even by her, the one person he sometimes listens to.

 

She has to make her choice.

This wizard with blood dripping from his fingers, with a wicked intelligence and magnificent power and a goal that could ruin the world if not carefully managed.

Or a life without him.

 

She knows what would be the right choice.

And yet …

Perhaps it is too late for her, maybe Tom has wormed his way under her skin.

She isn’t a snow-white innocent, even if her hands aren’t stained with the blood that Tom’s are.

Leave or stay. Right or wrong.

Heaven or Hell (she’s not sure which one is which anymore).

 

Tom leans forward to press his lips against hers.

It is a burning kiss, fierce and possessive.

She doesn’t leave.

And the bloody body behind them continues to stain their floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	4. Question - Hermione Granger / Neville Longbottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - question  
> Characters - Hermione Granger / Neville Longbottom  
> For sakikui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

Viktor Krum is hiding behind the bookshelves again.

Hermione sighs. It isn’t that she has a problem with Krum himself, even if he’s a little prone to lurking, but his fan club is noisy and annoying.

Harry seems slightly concerned by Krum’s tendency to pop up in whatever section of the library she chooses to study in, but Hermione thinks he’s harmless – he looks shy more than menacing and, anyway, she sticks to the open areas of the library just in case.

 

Today his fan club have yet to catch up with him, so she is able to study in relative peace. She notices every now and then that Krum seems to be making aborted steps forward, as if he wants to sit down at her table but is unsure about his welcome.

She considers asking him if he wants to take a seat but then Neville drops down into the chair next to her and she turns her attention to him.

“Hi, Hermione,” says Neville, “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

She shakes her head, “don’t be silly Neville, of course you aren’t.”

 

She knows there are a lot of her classmates who think Neville is a pest to her. They all know how often she helps him and they assume, given her annoyance with Harry and Ron sometimes when she assists them, that aiding Neville is a burden.

But they are wrong. Harry and Ron frustrate her at times because they (more Ron, but Harry can be guilty of it too) occasionally seem to want her to practically write the answers for them. Neville is different – he requires a lot of help but he always listens carefully and works really hard to learn what she’s trying to teach him. Ron can be lazy and Harry careless, but Neville only needs more attention and support than he can get in a class of thirty.

Neville is never going to lead the class in subjects like Transfiguration and Potions, but he’s by far the best in their year at Herbology, close to Hermione’s grades in Charms and (with a teacher who encourages, like Professor Lupin) his DADA marks are more impressive than most of the school would believe. He does not need his Remembrall much either, not since Hermione found some muggle memory exercises for him to do (the wizarding world seems to be notoriously bad about such things).

He is kind too. Neville was her first friend a Hogwarts and even though she has Harry and Ron now, not to mention Ginny, Fred and George, she doesn’t forget that Neville was there from the beginning, when the rest of Hermione’s new Housemates were either hostile towards her or acted as if she wasn’t even there (because she was too much of a stickler for the rules, too much of a bookworm, and not interested enough in Quidditch or makeovers or gossip).

 

Hermione and Neville work through the Potions homework without too many problems. It _is_ a difficult topic but Neville ploughs away with the quiet industry he always shows (there is a reason the Hat nearly put him in Hufflepuff), and he is much more relaxed in the library than he ever is in the Potions classroom with Professor Snape breathing down his neck.

Thankfully, this particular piece of work is one of the Potions topics where a good knowledge of magical plants is useful – Neville’s abysmal scores in certain areas of Potions are generally balanced out by better marks when he can use his Herbology expertise.

They have mostly finished by the time the peace of the library is disturbed by the arrival of Krum’s fan club. Knowing they won’t get anything productive done for a while the two of them begin to pack up and Hermione suggests they finish back at the Common Room, which won’t be too crowded since the majority of their House is probably outside in the snow.

 

Neville, who has oddly been rather on edge for the last half hour, now begins to look very nervous.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks.

“I … I was just thinking about the Yule Ball.”

Hermione pulls a face, “Merlin knows what I’m going to do about that – Lavender and Parvati keep threatening to give me a makeover so I’ll probably have to hide for most of the day.”

“Have you got a date yet?” he asks.

She shakes her head and laughs, “I’ve got no expectation of _that_ and I’m not about to start acting like those girls hanging off Krum and Diggory and angling for a date.”

 

“Would you,” Neville stutters out, before taking a breath and then starting again, “would you like to go with me?”

Hermione’s eyes widen.

“Just as friends,” he says hurriedly, blushing profusely, “I know you wouldn’t want to really go out with me.”

“I …” Hermione starts, but she finds herself quite unable to speak.

Neville’s face falls but he puts on a brave smile, “it’s ok, Hermione, it was a stupid idea anyway.”

He turns away but she grabs his arm, his misunderstanding of her silence pushing her to action.

“Wait, Neville, please. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His blush deepens, “you mean …”

She nods, “I’d love to go to the Yule Ball with you, Neville.”

 

He smiles and she realises just how much she loves that smile, and how fond she is of dependable, diligent Neville, who makes her laugh with his long-winded jokes and never calls her a know-it-all, who tells her all about growing up in the wizarding world and always thanks her when she helps him.

Often it seems like fate and destiny and necessity is what brought Hermione to Harry and Ron. But Neville has always been _her_ choice, just as she has always been his.

 

“But Neville,” she adds, “I don’t want to go just as friends – will you be my proper date?”

His grin is answer enough and they leave the library hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	5. Pampering - Hermione Granger & Lavender Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - pampering  
> Characters - Hermione Granger & Lavender Brown  
> For pianomouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

Hermione has never been to a spa. Lavender is horrified when she hears this.

“Not even a muggle one?” she asks.

Hermione shrugs, “when my mum and I had days out we usually went to a museum or to lunch.”

“We are going,” Lavender insists, “and we are going soon.”

Hermione doesn’t bother to argue. Lavender is a force of nature when she wants to be and Hermione has learnt to pick her battles. One day at a spa isn’t going to kill her.

Of course a few years ago, especially during sixth year, there would have been many, _many_ things that Hermione would have rather done than spend an entire day just with Lavender. But the war has put a lot of things in perspective – Lavender, while still devoted to fashion and fond of gossip, shows a more serious side, while Hermione has decided that the occasional makeover and girls night out can actually be fun.

 

Hermione, knowing as little about magical spas as she does muggle ones, lets Lavender make all the arrangements, books a day off work and resigns herself to her friend’s insistence that she not bring any books.

“I know you, Hermione, and you’ll get so lost in whatever you’re reading that you’ll waste the whole day away without experiencing any of the spa amenities.”

She’s right, though Hermione won’t admit it out loud.

The books stay at home.

 

England’s premier magical spa (patronised, Lavender tells her, by such leading society witches as Narcissa Malfoy, Alethia Greengrass and Eleanora Zabini) is a lot like Hermione imagines the best muggle ones are, only with everything more convenient and effective (and, obviously, more magical).

It’s a bit intimidating, really, and not the kind of world Hermione is at all comfortable in. To her relief, Lavender takes charge and soon enough they’ve been booked in and directed to the changing rooms (thankfully with individual rooms for privacy).

 

Hermione has a one-piece suit in dark red. She’s never been particularly comfortable with skimpy outfits and the suit also has the advantage of covering her most obvious scar (Dolohov’s work from the fifth year battle at the Ministry) – she doesn’t mind her scars but she sometimes gets sick of being asked about them.

Lavender has gone for a pink and white patterned bikini, and she shows no discomfort at the scars that criss-cross along her stomach and back. For a while, in the immediate aftermath of the battle at Hogwarts, Lavender had been extremely self-conscious about the remnants of Greyback’s attack, but Hermione had pointed her in the direction of a muggle therapist (wizarding Britain is terrible with mental health, and Lavender’s scars can be easily explained to muggles as an animal attack), and whatever they had talked about had clearly worked, because Lavender wears her scars proudly now and with no small amount of scorn for anyone who tries to tell her that they make her ugly or should be hidden away.

 

“Let’s look around and see what we want to try first,” Lavender suggests, “Parvati swears by the yoga for de-stressing and says all the dance classes are great.”

Hermione nods in agreement, though she privately thinks that she’s always found yoga to be extremely dull, “what time are our massages?”

Lavender casts a quick _Tempus_ , “in four hours, just after lunch – we should probably leave the pool until the afternoon so that we get the chance to soak our aching muscles after the massages.”

Hermione grimaces at the thought of aching muscles, but Lavender has promised that it’s a good ache and that she’ll feel much better for it in a few days.

Hermione is sceptical and she’s definitely going to reserve judgement.

 

They go to a yoga class first, which isn’t quite as boring as Hermione has been expecting, and then to a salsa session where she only embarrasses herself a little (it has been years since she’s done any kind of dance class).

They spend a fairly entertaining half an hour in the section of the spa shop where you can test out different products. Hermione finds that it’s quite nice to pamper herself and try all the different moisturisers and face creams (she even buys a few and vows to actually use them rather than let them gather dust in her bathroom cabinet).

Lavender drags her to a lecture on the proper application of makeup (using both products and spells) and while most of the information goes straight out of Hermione’s head, she does remember a few tips that will help hide the bags under her eyes when she’s been up all night reading (this will have the added bonus of getting Harry and Kingsley – who both regularly tell her she works too hard - off her back).

 

Lunch is exquisite, the sort of meal Hermione imagines would be served somewhere like Malfoy Manor, and then it’s time for the massage.

It hurts.

The masseuse tells Hermione she has a lot of tension in her body (no surprise there) and that she probably shouldn’t work such long hours (no chance of that anytime soon) but she _does_ think the experience has done her good and tells a delighted Lavender that she may make it a semi-regular thing.

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon in the various pool rooms and jaccuzis, and by the end of the day Hermione does honestly feel relaxed.

“I told you so,” Lavender crows triumphantly.

Hermione tilts her head in acknowledgement and agreement, “I suppose there’s something to be enjoyed in pampering oneself at a spa every now and then.”

Lavender beams, “does this mean you’re open to coming clubbing with Parvati, Ginny and I now?” she asks, “since I clearly have such good ideas.”

Hermione snorts with laughter, “don’t push it, Lavender, one step at a time.”

“I’ll wear you down,” Lavender promises.

Inevitably, Hermione thinks, she probably will.

And she finds she doesn’t much mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	6. Despair - Hermione Granger & Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - despair  
> Characters - Hermione Granger & Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Hermione, what in Merlin’s name are you saying?”

“It’s a quote from _Paradise Lost_ ,” she tells him, “I read it years ago.”

“I think I might have heard of that,” he says after a few moments, “the library was one of the places Dudley never set foot in, so it was one of my favourite spots to hide out during the summer.”

“The author’s name was John Milton,” Hermione elaborates,” and it was about how Satan tempted Adam and Eve, and their eventual expulsion from Eden.”

“Sounds … cheerful.”

Hermione gives him a bitter little smile, “our surroundings and circumstances do not really inspire me in happy ways.”

Harry shrugs his agreement. It’s raining outside their tent, and the sky is a dull grey with no hint of blue. Not the most auspicious beginning to his twenty first birthday.  


“What do you mean by it?” Harry asks, because Hermione isn’t really the sort of person to quote anything to him without a reason.

“I just wonder whether there’s truth in it, whether there comes a point when being a bad person with freedom and autonomy might not be better, in the long run, than trying to be a good person in a world gone mad.”

Harry sighs, “you’re thinking of _that_ day, aren’t you.”

“Yes,” she admits, “our situation doesn’t exactly fit with Milton’s words, but it works in a way – as we are now we serve the light, and where has it got us?”

She gestures around them and Harry knows what she means.

A war that has dragged on for years, a list of dead friends that is always getting longer, a hardening of their hearts, and the worry that their fight against Voldemort is futile.

He misses the days when they had real hope, the days before despair took over their lives.

 

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we had said yes that day?” asked Hermione.

That day two years ago, the last time that the war had been going in their favour. The day that Voldemort had offered them both places at his side and an end to the fighting.

_“Power is everything, and you two have it in excess. We could be truly great together.”_

His words haunt them both, even now.

 

“It would never have worked,” Harry insists, “you know that, Hermione.”

“I suppose he would have turned us into people we wouldn’t recognise, into people Ron and Neville and Ginny and Luna would have hated.”

“Yes,” Harry says, “it would have just been a trick, another way to destroy us.”

“And yet,” Hermione whispers, almost to herself, “perhaps we could have made it work. At least we might have been able to exert some influence, or to get close enough to kill his worst, most depraved lieutenants like Bellatrix and Greyback. We could have saved so many people from death and torture at their hands.”

“We couldn’t have trusted Vol –” he pauses, remembering the taboo that has led to the death of a number of their friends, “we could not have trusted You-Know-Who to keep his promises,” Harry insists, “and we have done what we can for the people here.”

“It’s not enough, though, is it?” she asks, and the same sorrow is mirrored on both of their faces, “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to do enough.”

  
“We’ll keep fighting,” Harry says fiercely, grabbing onto his best friend’s hands and squeezing them tightly, “just like we have always done.”

Hermione sighs, “Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.”

“Another quote from _Paradise Lost_?” Harry guesses.

She nods, “it truly is a long way, and I’m never sure if there will ever be some light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Of course there will, Hermione.”

Hermione gives him a dim smile, “you’re so optimistic and _good_ , Harry, and I’m just … I’m just very tired.”

“We can afford to rest today,” he tells her.

They can’t. Not really. Even Hermione’s protections have their weaknesses, and they’ve had a lot of close calls recently.

But occasionally they just have to sit and find some beauty in the world around them, and remember what it is they are fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


	7. Strategy - Hermione Granger & Oliver Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt word - strategy  
> Characters - Hermione Granger & Oliver Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it is the property of the brilliant J.K Rowling. This story is the product of her marvellous characters and world and my imagination.

The Gryffindors in the Common Room are giving Oliver Wood a wide berth.

He’s sitting at a table muttering to himself as he makes notes and orders around the hovering figures on a model Quidditch pitch decked out in miniature Gryffindor flags.

Hermione has noticed that Wood is talented with Charms and thinks he did the spells on the model pitch himself – she’s tempted to ask about the magic he used but thinks the conversation would inevitably turn to Quidditch, and she hears quite enough about _that_ from Harry and Ron.

Still, she can’t help but be curious and wanders over to get a better look – most of their House are put off by Wood’s intensity, but Hermione certainly understands being driven about things you love.

 

She watches Wood for a few minutes (he doesn’t notice, oblivious to anything but his current occupation) and her mind moves away from consideration of the spells involved and on to thoughts of the use of Arithmancy in strategy.

Specifically in Quidditch strategy.

Hermione has only been studying Arithmancy for a month now but she already knows it will be a favourite class. Professor Vector is an amazing teacher and every topic is absolutely fascinating to Hermione.

  
“If you move Katie further forward and Angelina more to the left then, even with the increased pressure on the Keeper, you are 37% more likely to win the game.”

She claps a hand over her mouth as soon as she realises she’s spoken her thoughts out loud. Wood’s gaze switches from his model to her, back and forth with wide eyes.

Hermione can’t tell if he’s angry or just shocked that anyone would interrupt him when he’s in a Quidditch vortex.

She starts to back away slowly, acutely aware that she is being stared at by at least three quarters of the Common Room’s occupants, but Wood’s hand darts out to grab her wrist.

“Granger,” he whispers, “you are a bloody genius.”

 

She has no chance to reprimand him for his language (not that she’d normally bother anyway, since he’d likely just give her a friendly pat on the head and totally ignore her words) before he pulls her back over to the table and starts to fire off questions.

How did she come up with such an idea? Does she have any more suggestions? Why in Merlin’s name has no one told him that she’s a Quidditch strategy genius?

“It’s just basic Arithmancy,” she tells him, “I’m surprised no one in Gryffindor has tried it before – I think both the Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams use it sometimes. Professor Vector set us some work doing calculations and told us to choose a topic we weren’t familiar with so that we had to rely more on our findings rather than preconceived beliefs – I chose Quidditch.”

  
“Can you do more of this?” he demands.

Wood’s bulky build and the fact that he’s nearly shouting in his excitement should make her wary, but the Gryffindor Quidditch captain has never been scary to her, only incredibly ridiculous in his obsession with Quidditch.

“I can try,” she says with a shrug, “but it’s really simple stuff that we do this year – you’d probably be better with one of the NEWT students.”

Wood shakes his head, “Arithmancy is never a large class and there’s no Gryffindors studying it in my year apart from Percy Weasley, and he’s _never_ going to help, not in his NEWT year. I don’t think there are any sixth years taking the class either.”

“Just one fifth year,” Fred pipes up, “and he hates the subject – he’s only in the class because his dad practically forced him into it.”

“I’m the only Gryffindor studying Arithmancy in fourth year,” Katie Bell adds with an apologetic shrug, “and you’re a lot better at it than I am – I like Runes much more.”

 

“I’ll help when I can,” Hermione agrees after a few moments of thought, “but I’ve got a lot of work so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

“Are you free on Saturday morning?” Wood asks.

“I could spare an hour,” she says, thinking of all the homework she’s got – she has such a full class-load that even with her excellent time management and the time-turner it isn’t easy to keep as ahead as she likes.

“Oh I meant the whole morning,” Wood tells her cheerfully, “we’ve got to teach you to fly – Potter says you’re nervous on a broom and I think you’d have more context for your calculations if you got comfortable flying.”

She doesn’t bother reminding him that the point of doing a Quidditch-based project for Arithmancy is that she isn’t supposed to have context, because she knows nothing will derail Wood now.

She sighs. She should have just kept her thoughts to herself.

 

“I am _not_ getting on a broom,” Hermione insists, “I’m perfectly happy doing some calculations for you but I’d rather not break my neck.”

“Please, Granger,” Wood pleads, “don’t you want to help us win the Cup that we’ve been so unfairly robbed of these past few years?”

Her honest answer is that she’s not particularly bothered either way, but she knows better than to say that out loud to Wood.

 

“I’ll give you an hour and a half,” she offers.

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Fine, three hours,” she throws her hands up in exasperation, “and that’s it.”

“You won’t regret it, Granger.”

 

Hermione rather thinks she will. Even a Quidditch and flying fanatic like Wood is likely to have difficulty persuading her to like it – after all, many of her friends have tried and failed.

It is sort of nice, though, being included. Even if she doesn’t manage flying well, at least her Arithmancy work for the team will give her some connection to Quidditch aside from Harry’s place on the team.

There’s still all her work to get done, but she guesses a few extra spins of her time-turner won’t hurt.

Friends are important too after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.
> 
> Feel free to suggest ideas for further chapters by giving me a single prompt word and, if you want, the name of a character other than Hermione and if you want it to be romance, friendship, general etc. I can't guarantee anything as my muse can be fickle, but I'll try.


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